Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,25

send everyone off in a good mood,” I mutter.

I enter the room and shake my head. “Twat,” I say with feeling. “My brother is a huge ginormous twat.”

There’s a choked sound, and when I turn around, it’s to find Jack leaning against the wall, his face full of badly suppressed laughter.

“Oh, et tu brute?” I say, and he finally lets loose with loud peals. “Laugh it up. Get it all out,” I say as he snorts and huffs. “Finished?” I enquire acidly when he pauses for breath.

He shakes his head. “It was like some sort of mixture of Take That and Tobey Maguire’s dance in Spiderman Three.”

“Oh my God,” I say, staring at him as he continues to chuckle.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he says solemnly and then throws himself onto the bed and simply roars.

I stare down at him, my lips twitching. Jack Cooper laughing is a fantastic sight. He loses all that carefulness that his wanker parents instilled in him and looks happy and gorgeous. I sigh. Let’s never forget the gorgeousness.

I put my hands on my hips. “Are you going to laugh for the rest of the holiday?”

He calms, rubbing the tears away. “Maybe,” he says before starting to chuckle again. “Oh God,” he says, rolling on the bed. “That was so fucking funny. That odd herky-jerky dance of yours and then your brother’s face in the corridor. Mr Whiffles,” he wheezes.

“That herky-jerky dance was, for your information, a piece of very well-thought-out choreography by Ronnie Eckett,” I inform him. “Who is, even as we speak, performing it for the punters of The Drunken Sailor in Lewisham.” He won’t stop chuckling, and I shake my head. “You’re a huge twat, too,” I inform him which just prompts another gale.

Finally, he calms. “Okay. I’m okay now,” he says solemnly.

“Really?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

He nods and sits abruptly before I have time to step back. It puts his head directly in front of my groin. We both freeze. I glance down at his dark head, and to my horror, my cock stiffens.

“Sorry,” I gasp, cupping my hand over my dick, which only makes it harden more. He stares at me. “It’s not my fault,” I say defensively. “Your head was there. It’s all in the positioning.”

He stands up quickly, and I step back in surprise. He clasps my arms gently. “Arlo,” he says.

My eyes widen at the husky note in his voice. And just like that, the heat that rose between us in the Rijksmuseum is back and amplified about a billion times.

I look up at him. In this position, he seems very tall. And very hot. I swallow hard.

I open my mouth to leap into my usual inane chatter, but something—maybe instinct, or maybe just an overly loud inner voice—tells me to stop. He closes his eyes, as if he’s fighting something. When he opens them again, they’ve become very dark. And before I can ruin the moment—which has become the new winner for hottest moment ever in my life—he lowers his head and kisses me. And we have a brand-new winner immediately.

His lips rest on mine, full and soft, and we both go utterly still, as if amazed at this development. Then two things happen. I give a small groan, and as my mouth opens, he kisses me properly, sending his tongue in to tangle with mine. Heat sweeps over me, and I act instinctively, moving into him and kissing him back. He moans, and the kiss seems to catch fire, going from cautious to hot in the blink of an eye.

He pulls me closer, his hands grabbing me just above the swell of my arse. I tangle my hands in his hair, and it’s even softer than it looks. My fingers tighten, and he moans again, lowering his hands to cup my arse. I pull my head back, gulping air, feeling like every nerve in my body is on fire. He immediately starts to kiss my throat and bites my jaw gently. I give a gasp of surprise, and his hands move, grabbing my bum.

The feel of his hard cock against me is indescribable. I want to fuck him, and then I want to ride him hard until we both come. I rise to my toes, and he immediately helps, hoisting me so my legs can wrap around his waist.

“Shit,” he says. I whine, drunkenly following his mouth, trying to kiss him again. “Arlo,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes, you should,” I